Without You I Can't Breathe
by Love-slave
Summary: Dean is cursed and Sam is stuck adjusting to the changes. Love Spell fic! Wincest sam/dean warning: dub-con
1. Chapter 1

AN: So I wrote this for the kinky-mini-bang over on livejournal during the worst time of my life. I know that sounds dramatic, but my mother was in the hospice and she was dying. I started the story before her admission there and then after her death I oddly thought that I owed it to her to do everything I could to the best of my ability. I finished the story in a haze, sent it in to my beta and artist. Sadly my artist, who was very sweet, didn't end up having the time to work on it and I never heard from my beta again despite trying to get a hold of her. Now, months later I decided to just post the story with my own editing and take on it. Warning it didn't turn out as quite as happy as I was hoping it would. I really hope you guys enjoy it and I'm sorry for the long winded authors note. Please R&R as I would LOVE to get the chance to turn the experience of this story around for myself

Chapter One

_Dean_

It's a Monday when the morning sun falls through the window at just the right angle that Sam is illuminated in his bed, fast asleep, and Dean thinks unabashedly that he is beautiful.

It's a rare occasion that Sam is not up with the sun and Dean can't help but watch his gentle, relaxed features in the warm glow. The thought simply strikes him as an absolute fact. Not as anything weird, just as the truth. His brother is beautiful and Dean just never really paid attention before.

He watches him for a full minute, wondering why he's never noticed, and also wondering how Sam can sleep with the sun in his eyes, and finally smacks him hard with a pillow, the moment gone.

"Eggs n' Bacon time, Sammy!" he says cheerfully.

Sam groans, burrowing his face in a pillow.

"God, you're such a dick."

Maybe this is why he's usually up before Dean.

On Wednesday night they're in a small town in butt-fuck nowhere, because of course vengeful spirits with a penchant for scalping were _always_ in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.

Sam, covered in soot and dirt from head to toe, walks into the 7/11 while Dean waits in the car.

Dean is covered in blood.

Sam, in his dirt, is much more acceptable.

Then, for a moment while Sam is walking back to the car, his strong broad shoulders and narrow hips, the wisps of his hair, his confident stride, are all silhouetted in the stinging fluorescent lights. Dean is struck suddenly by how much he _wants _that.

Its sudden and jolting, the knowledge that he wants to look like his brother-which makes no sense at all because as far as he's concerned, he got the looks in the family. But it's there anyway, the burning desire to have 'that'.

He pushes it down, the twisting in his gut, and can't sleep half the night because the image of Sam silhouetted in light keeps burning behind his eyelids. It makes him feel hallow, like he's starving, and he doesn't know why. He doesn't get it.

By morning, when he wakes up ragingly hard, with those broad shoulders still seared into his eyes, he finally gets it.

He doesn't want to _be_ like his brother, he _wants_ someone like his brother.

As disturbing as the thought is, it makes sense. Sam is the person he's always been closest to. He's the person that Dean has always put first, even before himself, and he's the only thing Dean has ever has that has been at least a little bit constant. Death and dying aside, Sam is reliable, and Dean and everyone else, knows that he is never going to get that anywhere else.

It's no secret that Dean is lonely. If Sam wasn't with him he'd have gone ape-shit crazy by now. The problem is of course that most women, one way or another, reminded him of Lisa, and he still isn't ready for that.

A tall, broad man like Sam, on the other hand is more or less the complete opposite. It all makes sense.

He's never really thought about it in detail before. The mechanics of sleeping with another guy has always just seemed too complicated to bother with.

He tests it out all through breakfast while Sam reads his paper, shooting glances at the guys in the shoddy diner and eventually the girls. He doesn't know if it's the lack of fine pickings or the fact that he just still isn't ready, but it makes his stomach turn and gut clench whenever he looks at anyone else.

He fixes his gaze on Sam from then on. Sam is easier on the eyes than everyone here anyway.

They spend the rest of the day, and most of Friday, driving. Sam sits in shotgun with his hand hanging out the window. His fingers sift through the air and his eyes are shut. He looks completely at peace and Dean wonders if, now that everything is over, Sam is just grateful to be here, content to be alive and in the impala, tearing across the country side with Dean.

With a rush, Dean realizes that it's what _he_ feels. The swelling gratitude in his chest makes him want to laugh and cry like a maniac because if Sam isn't here, if he isn't with Dean for the rest of his life then there is no point. No point of anything.

He remembers what it is like, living in that big house with Lisa and Ben, the impala hidden away in the garage. All signs of his previous life gone, because he knows, he _knows_ that this time Sam wont be coming back.

And now, by comparison, the world has flipped over and turned inside out and brought Sammy back to him and now everything is right.

A cold chill slides over him as he finally realizes.

It isn't that he's not ready to be with another woman like Lisa yet. It's that the only person in the world that he'll ever want is Sam.

Sam starts to hum. It's a familiar tune but he can't quite make it out over the wind buffeting through the car. Even so, his voice melts over Dean, soothing his frayed nerves until he pulls off at the next exit.

Sam raises his brows at him but waits until they pull into the gas station before he says anything.

The tank is still half full, but Dean shrugs and gets out of the car to fill it the rest of the way. He needs to stop, collect his thoughts, figure out what's happening or at the very least remember how to breathe.

Taking the opportunity, Sam climbs out of the car, stretching his arms and legs and neck. Dean looks away until Sam leans casually against the car next to him and fixes him with his gaze.

"You feeling okay?" he asks.

Dean opens and closes his mouth for what feels like far too long before nodding jerkily.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"The last time you were so quiet you had strep throat."

He grins at Dean playfully and Dean's heart stabs into his ribs so hard he has to drag his eyes away to breathe.

"Hey…"

A hand touches his forehead and Dean jerks away, stumbling. Sam is staring at him, genuine concern written on his face now.

"What's wrong?"

Shaking himself, Dean forces his eyes to Sam's.

"I think I'm coming down with something," he says.

Sam steps toward him.

"Like what, a fever?"

"Don't."

Sam stops in his tracks, officially confused and a little offended, judging by his expression. Great.

"I think it's a cold. I don't want you to catch it."

Sam doesn't look like he buys it, but he lets Dean go back into the car without commenting on the fact that he took the passenger seat. It's probably for the best. He can't concentrate and doesn't remember how he drove here at all after Sam started humming.

Sam finishes pumping the gas and goes inside to pay.

When he climbs into the driver seat he hands Dean a bag filled with chocolate bars and cold medicine.

"I'm glad you're here," Dean says. He doesn't mean to say it. Usually he swallows down this type of thing.

Sam snorts.

"Where else would I be?"

Dean shakes his head.

"No, I mean…" he puts his hand on Sam's forearm, feeling the hard, warm muscle beneath his shirt. Sam, who is slowly backing out puts his foot on the break and looks at him. "I'm glad you're here at all."

He can see the realization when it hits Sam, the way it chokes him.

He looks back out the window and starts to drive again. Why is it that Dean always relies on Sam to just know things like this? Why does he never just say it when he thinks it, like he did just now? Why hide it when it makes Sam so blatantly happy?

It's not until they're back on the highway that Sammy finally responds.

"Now I know you really _are_ sick."

His lips tilt ever so slightly, the hint of dimples and straight teeth, and Dean realizes how officially screwed he is.

Another week passes before he figures out that it's a curse.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thanks for the kind comments and reviews :) frostygossamer and KayJay112 I sent you guys PM's. Thanks for the reviews, and JamesParker as well. Don't worry this story is already complete, so I'll be updating regularly :D Please review! Oh BTW, this was written for the kinky bang so the kink I chose is Dub-Con. Probably should have mentioned that earlier for people who don't like that... sorry :P Chapter Two

_Sam_

Sam can't say specifically that he's noticed the difference. There was a moment yesterday where his arm brushed against Dean's so lightly that he wouldn't have noticed... except for how loudly Dean's breath hitched.

He tried to cover it with a cough, but it was so fake that even Dean couldn't pretend to buy it. He cleared his throat awkwardly while Sam stared.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked.

Dean just shrugged.

That, in all honesty, is the closest he has come to figuring out that something is wrong.

In the past, Sam really prided himself on being able to read people. He liked to take educated guesses on what people were thinking or feeling, piecing it all together based on what he knows of their past experiences, where their eyes darted, or how they emphasized certain words. In retrospect he would have made a great psychologist, but reading Dean has stopped being so easy after his return from hell.

Sam has spent too long since then preoccupied with revenge and blood and death and mindless, constant, _unending_ torture. Maybe it is the desire for life to be simple now, but he has learned to take things at face value.

He has learned to accept what he has and not search for more, the way he always has done before.

He is content with life, the road, simple salt and burns, and Dean.

Dean, despite all of his maturing and growing, still knows how to keep things just familiar enough for Sam to feel like nothing has really changed. Like everything they'd gone through is a horrific dream with only the added lines around Dean's eyes to prove anything otherwise.

Which is why, when Dean finds Sam in the library, his serious tone and piercing green gaze sends a chill through Sam.

"We need to talk."

It's all Dean says, and Sam is out of his seat following Dean out the library door, his legs feeling like lead and his stomach somersaulting furiously. He doesn't want any more bad news. He doesn't.

He imagines being somewhere else while he follows Dean to the car. Their motel room suddenly seems like the best place in the world. He needs a shower. A shower would be really nice right now.

He sits down in the passenger seat. The car feels small right now. Smaller than it ever does when they're on the open road with the radio blasting.

Dean doesn't drive. It's almost a minute before Sam realizes that Dean has no intention of driving.

He's sitting stiffly in his seat, hands clenching the wheel, eyes fixed somewhere on the hood. He looks terrified or devastated and Sam is too afraid to guess which.

Carefully, he places a hand on Dean's shoulder. The response is immediate. Dean's eyes flutter closed, his head bowing and he leans in to Sam.

Sam's stomach knots.

"Jeeze, just tell me what happened, Dean."

They don't have many connections anymore, let alone friends and all Sam can think of is Bobby. _Please don't be Bobby…_

Finally, Dean shakes his head.

"I'm not exactly sure what happened yet, Sammy, that's the problem…"

He drifts off and Sam wants to shake him.

"Did someone get hurt?" he asks quietly.

Dean looks at him finally, the confusion evident in his eyes.

"What? No."

Some of the knots release in his gut and he sighs in relief.

"Okay, what is it then?"

Dean bites his lip, still looking at Sam and his eyes drop to Sam's mouth.

Sam thinks it's nothing at first, except that Dean isn't speaking, and he isn't looking away.

"Dean?"

The sound of his name does spark a response but it's not the one Sam expects. Dean leans forward and it's suddenly really obvious what he's trying to do.

"Dean!"

His brother is half on top of him, eyes frighteningly focused on Sam's mouth, straining toward him while Sam tries to fight him off.

"What are you doing?"

It would be funny, like any of their other scuffles, except that Dean is trying to kiss him.

Sam yanks the door open, half tumbling out and bolts out of the car.

He stands, gasping in the broad daylight, his heart pounding in his ribs. Dean doesn't follow him out.

Finally, after a minute of standing there like a deer in head lights, Sam leans down to look inside.

Dean is leaning where Sam left him; a look on his face like the world is crumbling around him. When he looks up at Sam, his eyes are focused again and full of regret.

"It's a curse," he says. "I don't know when it happened, but I want you. I want you Sam, and I love you."

The end comes out like the line from an afternoon soap, except that Dean's not much of an actor, and curses are never as fun in real life as they are on TV.

"Okay, what is the first thing you noticed?"

They are back at their room with the curtains, windows and doors wide open because Dean insisted it would help make it feel like they're not alone together.

Dean sighs.

"I don't know, Sam."

"You have to try Dean."

Dean is lying on his bed, Sam sitting facing him on his own, a notebook and pencil in hand.

"We have to pinpoint when it first started."

Dean groans.

"Who the hell would do this, anyway? I mean, we're brothers. I would be ready to drown myself right now if I didn't know it was a curse."

"Well, maybe they don't know we're brothers. We do use a lot of fake names."

Dean shoots him a glare.

"Still doesn't make it okay Sammy."

Sam flushes.

"That's not what I was saying."

Dean's glare is gone, but he hasn't looked away. Now he's just staring at Sam, his eyes wandering over his face, picking up details. Sam looks down at his notebook, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"I kind of knew what was happening sometime last week," Dean says.

Sam nearly drops his pencil.

"What? This has been going on a week and you didn't tell me?"

Dean raises a challenging brow at him.

"You telling me that if you suddenly wanted to bone me you wouldn't try to deal with it quietly and on your own?"

Anything Sam possibly could have rebuffed that with is lost somewhere around Dean wanting to 'bone' him.

His face is starting to feel a little too warm.

"Did you try anything that worked at all?"

This time Dean flushes.

"Not so much."

"Why?"

He fixes Sam with a gaze.

"I was distracted."

"…Ah."

You could officially cook eggs on his skin. He distracts himself with scribbling absolutely nothing onto his notepad and when he looks up again, Dean is watching him, a soft smile playing on his lips. He really does look like a love sick pre-teen girl.

The smile suddenly vanishes.

"Can you stop sitting there like that? It feels like you're my shrink."

Sam sighs and pulls himself up onto the bed so that his back rests on the headboard.

"Okay, be serious here, Dean. When is the first time you looked at me and thought— I'm in love with my brother?"

Dean laughs.

"Sam, I don't know if you've noticed, but me loving you isn't a new thing. I've loved you since you were just a sonogram photo taped to the fridge, and then I just kept loving you more and more when you turned into a real, breathing, person."

Sam shouldn't be choked up, considering the circumstances, but Dean never usually shares this much and never so openly.

"It's not like something actually _changed_ with how I feel about you, Sam, it just _intensified._"

He looks up at Sam, at a loss.

"I don't know how long it was happening for."

Sam swallows and tries to clear his head.

"Okay, well let's look at the… sexual side of things then…" Maybe it will be more awkward this way, but it has to come out.

"When did that start?"

Dean sighs.

"Maybe two weeks ago?"

"Okay, do you remember anything specific Dean? Any moment?"

"No, Sam, I don't."

He pushes up, frustrated, and sits on the edge of his bed, watching his brother.

"I haven't really been interested in anyone for a while, but I didn't really think anything of it before. Then there was that night in North Carolina when we had McDonald's drive through and you has some ketchup…"

He touches the corner of his lip, presumably where it was on Sam and then he frowns.

"Actually, I think that was after I knew."

"Anything else?"

Dean shakes his head, still thinking, but remains quiet.

"Dean."

He looks up at his name, fixing large, green eyes on Sam. He looks composed, but there is a definite fear hidden behind those eyes and it fills Sam with a weird surge of protectiveness that he hasn't felt in a long time.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"It's hard to explain."

"Try me."

Dean gives Sam that look. The one that says quite clearly 'are you sure you want to do this?'

Sam just raises his brows and waits.

"There are a lot of moments coming to mind," he admits, "but I don't know if they matter."

He falls silent again but Sam can tell that he's thinking, sorting everything through.

"When did all this start?" Dean murmurs. He says it like it is a math question that he just can't figure out.

"You smiling at me… your eyes catching the light… your hands tracing over the map… your body silhouetted…"

His voice is reverent as he lists things, moments that sound so important to him, but that Sam can't place. The way he pressed his lips together or leaned against the car. It sounds like tidbits that would have taken ages to collect, only Dean has seen Sam doing these things _forever_. For all he knows Dean had been cursed today and is just remembering all these things in a different light.

His heart is pounding again as Dean's deep voice flows over him, describing him with so much fondness that Sam doesn't know how to react.

"Are you sure it's been a week?" he asks, interrupting.

Dean swallows, visibly pulling himself from his thoughts.

"Yeah," he says. "You bought me chocolate bars—it was pretty much a proposal dude."

Sam just shakes his head.

"I always buy you chocolate."

Dean grins.

"What can I say, you know how to keep a man happy."

Sam can't help the smile—until he remembers it.

"You didn't have a cold."

Dean bites his lip and shakes his head.

"I'd just figured it out."

Sam's mouth slowly drops open.

"Well, that explains a lot," he grumbles.

He knows he shouldn't be upset, but knowing exactly how long it's been going on without his notice is hard to accept.

"So we need a time before last Friday," he says and quickly scribbles down the date.

This can be like any other case. If they approach this like they do all their cases, Sam can shut out all of the gut twisting reactions and thoughts. This time, Dean is the victim, Sam is the hunter.

"The map," he says. "You said I was tracing a map?"

Dean nods.

"Yeah, that was on Saturday when we were driving through Utah."

"Okay, we need something before that."

He shuts his eyes, thinking through everything that Dean has said. Finally he picks something out.

"Silhouetted," he says. "How often am I silhouetted in light?"

Dean frowns at that and suddenly his eyes widen, and he straightens.

"7/11. Right after our last salt and burn."

"That was two days before you realized."

Dean grins.

"So it was while we were working the case."

"We can back-track," Sam suggests. "Retrace our steps."

Dean nods eagerly.

"Yes, please. I mean I don't want to stop caring about you Sammy, but it's just wrong for me to think your bitch face is cute."

Sam doesn't know what to say to that.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: You guys are so great! :D I'm going to try to reply to all of the comments as soon as I have some time. Sorry about the wait for chapter three, but here it is! I hope you like it^^

Chapter Three

_Dean_

It's not Sam's fault. In fact, considering the circumstances, he's handling everything just fine. Better than fine.

If the role was reversed, Dean doubted he would go a day without teasing and testing the boundaries… seeing just how much Sam loves him, just out of curiosity.

Sam doesn't do this.

He asks Dean simple, clinical questions that Dean doesn't know how to answer.

He asks him how he feels. He asks him if there is a difference day by day.

Dean can't answer these questions simply because the answers _aren't_ simple and clinical.

At every silence he resolves himself to tell the truth; that he doesn't feel okay. He feels like his insides are twisting up. He feels frustrated. He feels like he can't breathe.

He wants to tell Sam that there _is _a difference day by day. Every day, every waking moment it gets worse. It hurts that Sam doesn't touch him, doesn't kiss him or whisper how much he loves him.

He knows that Sam loves him, but it's not enough. He needs to know. Needs physical _proof_. He needs to feel it and every time he doesn't, it gets worse. Every time Sam asks him how he _feels_ it gets worse.

It feels like he's ripping apart and Sam is the only one who can hold him together.

Only he won't.

They drive almost the whole day to get to Glendale but stop just before evening at a small place on the edge of Spring Creek because Sam's tired and though he doesn't say it, it's clear that he doesn't trust Dean driving right now.

Dean can't really say he blames him. His palms are red, deep indents cut into them from his fingernails because he is clenching his fists so hard.

All because he is trying to reign it in, the absurdly strong urge to _do _something. And if he isn't being careful his imagination is more than happy to show him in excruciating details what those things could be.

The Impala is suddenly his playground, the open road his stage and Sam, the main attraction. His teeth biting into his tongue, his nails cutting his palms, are the only ways he finds to remind himself that his daydreams aren't allowed to happen.

It is a relief to be free of the car's confines but his baby's leather interior is quickly replaced by faded salmon wallpaper, a dingy kitchenette and dusty sheets.

He tosses and turns literally the whole night and only manages to lie still when he gives in and turns his eyes on Sam. The gentle movement of his baby brother's belly gently rising and falling is soothing enough that Dean decides he likes it more than sleep anyway. When the urge to join him becomes overpowering is when the tossing and turning resumes.

Shortly after five a.m. he pulls himself from bed and staggers to the washroom, washing his face in cold water. He looks at himself in the mirror and instead of seeing his face he sees Sam. It's like he's been washed of anything else. Sam is all that matters, all he can think of, and he needs to find a way to get this under control before they find the bitch that did it to him because Dean doesn't think he can make it through the rest of the road trip. Not like this. Not with it getting more and more intense.

Sam is awake and waiting for the washroom when he walks out.

"Hey," he mutters. His voice is slurred with sleep and Dean wants to capture the way he says 'hey' and keep it in his pocket and take it out whenever he's alone to listen to Sam's sleepy, _sexy _voice.

"Hey," he chokes.

"How are you feeling?" he asks and now Dean just wants to scream.

He's long run out of honest sounding answers and it's too damn early in the morning to try and think up a witty response.

Sam stops at the door and turns back to look at him.

"Fine," Dean finally says.

Sam doesn't look very convinced, but he takes it any way and shuts the door.

Dean stands there for a long while, listening. It's not until the sound of the shower water hitting the tub breaks him from his reverie that he realizes how very creepy that is...listening to Sam peeing into the narrow toilette, a disgruntled cough, the sound of clothes sliding off of skin and hitting the cold tiles.

He has goose bumps up his arms and forces himself to walk away. He tries unsuccessfully to not imagine Sam in the shower, but gives up and flops into the little armchair.

He's not going to touch himself.

He can hold off. He has self control. Plus he doesn't want Sam to catch him on his way out the shower. Suddenly he sees Sammy there, releasing steam into the room as he steps out in only a towel, water dripping down his chest and hanging on the ends of his hair. He's seen it a million times before but never cared. How could he not have cared? His whole body flushes hot now, but he's still not going to do it. He imagines Sam in that towel, seeing Dean sitting there with his hands full of his own hard cock, moaning Sam's name. Would Sam watch?

He moans and digs his fingers hard into the armchair's course fabric. Why is Sam taking so long?

When he finally steps into the room, Dean can't help but stare, knowing what he'll find. What he also can't help is the swell of disappointment at the fact that Sam has pulled on his sweats and t-shirt before leaving the washroom today. Not that he doesn't still look like something, with his damp skin making the thin fabric cling to him…

"I'm going out for a bit."

Well that kills the mood.

"What?" Dean demands, sitting up. "Where?"

He is on his feet already in a near panic. Sam shrugs looking at Dean strangely.

"Just up the street for some coffee. You can shower while I'm gone."

Several things cascade into Dean like a physical force. Fear and anxiety and the inevitable question.

"What? Why, do I smell?"

He sniffs himself while Sam raises his brows, pulling on his shoes.

"I don't know, I just thought-"

"You don't _have_ to go right?"

He is in front of the door now, physically blocking Sam's way.

"I can make us coffee here."

He is being psychotic, he knows that but—

"They have a whole coffee machine thing. I've been wanting to try it."

Sam slowly puts down his other boot and nods.

"Yeah, okay Dean, if that's what you want," he says compliantly.

Dean nods.

By the time he's standing over the coffee machine, his hands are trembling so badly that he almost can't open the little bag of grinds.

He can feel Sam's eyes on him and it makes it worse. He wants to look at him. Wants to face him so bad but that would just make everything so obvious.

"Shit."

The bag bursts open, grinds exploding over the counter and Dean's heart hammers into his ribs like it'd been a gun fire.

Sam doesn't say anything so Dean reaches out for a new one before suddenly there are hands on his back.

Everything fades except for the fact that Sam has his hands on him and by the time he registers it, he is already turned in Sam's arms, face buried into his collar, breathing him in, pulling him in closer.

"Whoa, okay, Dean."

He tries to pull away and Dean squeezed harder in an instant panic. Sam rarely touches him and this isn't enough. He needs more time. Just another minute of Sam holding him. He can deal with the consequences later.

"Shh, Dean."

Those long, gentle fingers run through Dean's hair and all brain function officially ceases. And then Sam kisses him.

AN: btw, I'm being really shady with locations but I'm keeping them going in a tentative direction and their end location was made up so I hope no one minds!


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Yay! Chapter four is ready! :P I'm so excited to be posting this story finally ^^ its just hitting me now :P Sorry I haven't gotten back to everyone yet (still planning to) but thanks again for reviewing! XD I thought it was pretty hilarious anyway that pretty much everyone made a guess about the kiss and almost everyone was spot on. Hehe anyway on to the chapter!

Chapter Four

_Sam_

Sam isn't usually impulsive. That is more Dean's role in things but the soft kiss that he places on the top of Dean's head doesn't seem like a mistake. It doesn't seem out of place or wrong. Dean is shaking so hard he looks like at any moment he could break apart and the gently placed peck to his brother's hair-line while he strokes his back feels natural—like the right thing to do. That's why Dean's reaction takes him by surprise.

He's suddenly pushed up on his toes, following Sam's lips so aggressively that Sam stumbles back, taking Dean with him. His lips touch Sam's jaw and he makes a hungry noise that sends a chill up Sam's spine.

"Dean, stop."

He doesn't find his footing until his feet are on the soft carpet by the bed and he tries to pull back. He doesn't want to hurt Dean. He can tell that his brother is suffering enough but that does not mean he has to accept what is happening. He can restrain him if he needs to.

His knees touch the back of the bed and he falls flat, landing with a bounce on squeaking springs, a thrill of panic shooting through him.

Dean is moaning, climbing on top of him, all restraint gone. Something hard, presses against Sam's leg and he does _not_ let out a startled yelp while he frantically pulls himself away.

He doesn't get far, ending up flat on his back, properly on the bed, Dean pinning him down. He's not looking at Sam, he's in something like a trance—a haze—_something_, and his lips are locked onto Sam's throat and he's moaning and gasping like he's the one getting all the action and Sam suddenly lies still.

He attempts with all of his body to just calm down. Freaking out is not helping matters, its making it worse. Clearly something they have been doing all along is making everything worse because when Sam found out about the curse, Dean was not like this.

"Dean," he says.

His brother moans at his name and nips Sam's collar, sending a thrill through him. He shuts his eyes. _This is Dean,_ he reminds himself.

"Dean, look at me."

The command coupling with Sam's long fingers cradling his face coax Dean into listening.

He lifts his head, looking up at Sam with hooded, dilated eyes.

"Can you hear me?" he asks. "Do you _understand_ me?" _is any of this getting through?_

"Why, do I suddenly look Chinese or something?" he asks.

Relief floods Sam and he keeps his fingers around Dean's face, a smile breaking over him.

"Good, listen-."

"God, you look so good on your back," Dean breathes.

Everything Sam has wanted to say vanishes on his tongue and he blinks up at Dean until his brother's lips are on him again, this time on his mouth, desperate and hungry.

Sam wants to push him away, fling him off but the way Dean is kissing him is so needy and so hot that it almost feels like he needs it.

With a rush Sam realizes that he _does_ need this. His lips part at Dean's coaxing and a hot, wet tongue dips into his mouth with a heady groan. Dean is moving against him, his hips shifting subtly against Sam's jutting hip bone. His hard cock dragging against his skin through thick denim and chaffing the skin there. For a moment it feels good. Dean's tongue delves into him, fucking his mouth, biting and sucking and then Sam suddenly remembers that this is _Dean _and his stomach churns.

This time when he pulls away Dean doesn't put up a fight. His lips press chaste kisses to his jaw, tongue flicking under Sam's ear when he reaches it.

"Can we slow this down?" Shit. His voice is so lost in his soft breaths that he is sure Dean can't have heard it. He _hopes_ that Dean didn't hear it because hell, they are only kissing and a line like that only works with virginal fifteen-year-old girls.

But Dean slows to a stop. He goes completely still and then, when Sam's heart is starting to race even harder-if that is possible, he lifts up and focuses surprisingly alert eyes on Sam.

"We can stop," he whispers softly. His lips drift to Sam's swollen lips and stick there. "I'm not going to make you do anything that you don't want to, Sammy."

Sam wants to laugh, to rip out his hair, maybe both at once because Dean is letting his lips be pulled to Sam's as though there is an unknown magnetic force between them, and instead Sam just turns his head away.

"No?" he asks simply.

It takes a moment for the question to make sense according to Dean's confused gaze but when the comprehension dawns in his large greens it is coupled with an intense emotion that Sam cannot place.

"You don't want any of this?" Dean asks. His fingers travel suggestively down Sam's sides and the lightness of the touch makes his skin tingle. Dean raises a questioning brow and apparently he doesn't have much experience being turned down because when Sam minutely shakes his head the disappointment in Dean's eyes is staggering.

He watches Sam for a while and then a rough laugh breaks through.

"If you think I can willingly get off of you you're fucking crazy," he says and the smile is gone. "I can't leave you, Sammy."

The last words are so low, so quiet and lost that Sam doesn't know how to respond. Instead, he puts his hands on Dean's shoulders, trying to ignore the heart-broken look Dean gives him when he pushes him away. He disentangles their legs with absolutely no help from Dean and leaves him lying on the bed as he gets to his feet.

Dean doesn't look at him. Instead he rolls onto his side, facing away from Sam and doesn't move.

Completely overwhelmed, Sam stands there staring at his brother. He has never seen Dean like this, but then again, how often has he been cursed to be in love with someone.

Sam turns away from Dean, searching for something to do with his hands. He settles on packing his bag. They are heading out as soon as Dean gets himself together. Shooting Dean's dejected form a look he sighs. Just because he is feeling horribly for his brother does not mean he has to give in to the curse. He pushes down the swell of guilt in favor for the rush of pride he is feeling—even under a strong curse Dean has broken through it. He has managed to stop what he was doing and really listen to Sam and that thought alone makes Sam's stomach stop squirming and his heart stop pounding.

Dean is really trying here and he is doing it for Sam. Sam can do the same for him.

He pushes open the curtains, the early morning light falling into the room and making everything less grim in an instant.

"Come on," he says. "If we head out now we can make good time before sundown."

He doesn't look at Dean while he gets ready but it is only a moment before Dean is out of bed and lumbering around the room, packing his things.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Soooooooo I failed at my weekly updating. Obviously. Sorry! I love you guys though and I am going to try to be more on top of it. I had an idea, as well. Since I've never gotten to 100 reviews before on any story, I've decided to make a little contest. The 100th reviewer on this story can request for me to write any story/pairing/prompt, with as much detail as they want to give me and I will write it and post it! :D Since there are still 8 chapters to go and we're already at 31 I thought it would be doable. I hope people like this idea! :P let me know what you think of chapter 5!

Chapter Five

_Dean_

By afternoon, Dean feels actually kind of good. Better than that actually. He keeps replaying the events of the morning over and over in his head, relishing each moment, embracing the pain of Sam not wanting him but all of those swirling emotions paled in the face of one thing. _Sam had kissed him back._

No. He hadn't just kissed Dean back. He had laid in bed with him, let Dean feel his entire body, all the hard, muscular plains and soft skin and he had let Dean lick him and suck his sweet, clean skin and he had let Dean breath him in andhe has _kissed him. _If he shuts his eyes he can remember the feel of Sam's full bow lips moving against his, can taste his mouth, feel his teeth scraping against his tongue.

He has the best brother in the world.

"What are you grinning about over there?" Sam asks. He has a curious smile on his face while he shoots Dean narrowed glances from his seat.

"Nothing," Dean says, grin widening. Weirdest part of all is that he really does feel okay. Well, he still would jump at the chance to fuck Sam's brains out, but he knows even now how messed up that is. He knows that it's the curse talking and that once they find the witch that did this, he and Sam, they'll be alright. Just like they always are.

Dean insists that they stop for lunch at a brightly colored place called _Debbie's Diner_. He's not that hungry but he wants to stretch his legs, and also, whenever Dean wants to celebrate, it's usually with a big slice of pie, and Debbie's Diner looks like just his type of place.

The Diner is painted that same shade of blinding red as the sign outside while all the tables are white and the chairs yellow. All it does is make Dean grin even more.

"Hey," he says, nudging Sam. "Don't let any Japanese kids in here, they'll have seizures."

He laughs at his own joke and Sam just raises his eye brows, his lips twitching. God, Dean has missed that look.

"How many?"

Sam clears his throat awkwardly at the waitress.

"A table for two," he says.

He follows his brother to a booth in the back corner and settles in, picking up the menu.

"Dean."

He looks up to find Sam leaning forward, head tilted, trying to catch his gaze. Dean tries not to stare.

"What?"

Sam snorts.

"_What_?" he repeats. "You have a grin from ear to ear, man, you're going to blind someone."

Dean shrugs.

Sam doesn't seem all that upset by it. In fact, he has a smile of his own growing on those lips, dimples making a full force appearance, and he really has to stop smiling at Dean like that.

Dean looks away, taking a breath.

"Well?" Sam asks. "You going to tell me what's got you in such a good mood?"

"Because Sam…" He trails off, staring at his brother. _You let me make out with you and it was really hot_ doesn't seem like an answer that will be appreciated. After all, it hasn't exactly been a picnic for Sam.

He nudges Dean under the table when he doesn't answer and Dean sighs.

"Why look in this horse's mouth?" he demands. "The _thing_ from this morning might have fixed me. I feel good, let's keep it that way."

The waitress is there a moment later, in a painfully yellow dress that matches the décor and that surprisingly suites her and makes her tanned skin glow.

"Are you boys ready to order?"

Sam does that weird, shifty thing he always does around pretty girls and looks up into her round dark eyes smiling.

"What do you recommend?" he asks.

"Hm," she says thoughtfully. "Well the Sheppard's pie is really popular and you can get a free coffee with it for our lunch special."

"Perfect," he says. "I'll get that."

Her smile is surprisingly genuine while she looks at Sam. Almost as an afterthought, she looks at Dean. Dean doesn't blame her. When Sam gets that flirty smile on his face it is hard to look away.

Dean orders his burger and peach pie and sits back. He isn't feeling so celebratory right now. Sam gives him a look and he shrugs, straightening and forcing a smile back to his lips.

It isn't that big a deal. Sam could look at pretty girls all he wanted, especially ones that fell right into his type; petite, curvy, long black hair and big dark eyes. It is funny, Dean is absolutely none of those things…. but Sam will be leaving with him and in no time at all this little girl won't even be a blip in his memory.

Oddly enough, the thought really does make him feel better.

The peach pie is friggen delicious and apparently the Sheppard's pie is to die for because Sam makes a little moaned _Mmm _when he bites into it.

Dean bites his lip and concentrates on the pie. Okay, stopping for food was a bad idea. It would have been so much better sitting in the car, eating drive-through with just the two of them.

"How was the food?"

Dean holds back a growl at the girls approach. It isn't her fault that she is perfect for Sam.

"Awesome," Sam says at once.

She grins.

"Oh good. I'll go get you your bill then."

She goes up to the counter, typing things up on the register and Sam shoots Dean a glance before jumping up and going after her.

Dean sinks into his seat, turning to watch despite himself, because, you know, he's a masochist.

They are both smiling. Sam says something that makes them both laugh and that is the last straw.

Dean is on his feet and next to Sam so fast that he doesn't remember walking there.

"So I don't suppose that you're Debbie?" Sam is asking.

She laughs. _Oh come on, that isn't even funny!_

"No, no, Debbie's the owner's kid. She's eight." She looks up at Sam through long lashes. "I'm Hannah."

Sam holds out a hand at once, always the gentleman.

"Sam," he says.

Their hands barely touch and Dean is pulling him away.

"You paid?" he asks. "Let's go."

"Dean!" Sam hisses. "What the hell?"

He gestured to the girl and Dean nearly laughs.

"What, you want to stay to talk to some bitch?"

He knows it is a mistake the moment it is out of his mouth, just from the expression on Sam's face.

Hannah, looks genuinely taken aback and Sam, stunned and beyond apologetic. Dean takes that as his queue to leave.

He waits in the car while Sam takes it upon himself to apologize for him and he forces himself to stare at the dashboard, avoiding looking at the restaurant at all for fear that he won't be able to stop himself from going back in there and dragging his brother away.

After far too long Sam is stepping through the big glass doors, and Dean's eyes shoot to him like a magnet. He watches Sam swing into the driver's seat seamlessly next to Dean.

He backs the car out and they are driving again, just like that with Sam, silent and stone cold next to him.

"Where are we going?" Dean asks.

"To find that witch," Sam spits.

It is funny. Dean had _just _told Sam that he was feeling fine; clearly he doesn't need Dean to tell him that he was wrong.

He can feel the pull again and it is coming in swiftly. He shuts his eyes and clenches his teeth, forcing himself to keep in his seat. The odd thing is that he doesn't want to jump Sam right now. He is so sure that if he just leans against him, lets his head fall on that strong, toned shoulder that all of the pain will just go way.

"Dean."

He looks over at Sam. His expression has softened, most of the anger gone to be replaced by concern. He gives Dean's hands a pointed look and only then does Dean realize that he has them clenched so tightly that his knuckles are white.

He forces his body to relax but it is hard. He wont be able to keep this up for long.

"Are you okay?" Sam asks gently.

Dean opens his mouth, the typical response on the edge of his tongue, but he can't say it. Not after everything that happened today.

"No," he says honestly. "I'm not okay Sam."

It feels like a release to say it, like some of the painful pressure lessens at his words and he just doesn't want to hold anything back anymore.

"I'm not okay," he repeats, "but touching you… it makes me feel like I will be."

He's staring out the window, blindly watching everything pass by around them. That's why the feel of Sam's fingers on him surprises him so much.

He looks up at Sam. He has his eyes glued to the road, but he entwines their fingers so gently and firmly that Dean just sits there and lets it all happen and miraculously everything—all the pain, confusion, want—it all just fades away.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Here's the next chapter! I'm glad people like the review idea, I hope people are hatching story ideas :P Also I tried to reply to all my reviewers but there were a lot of people without accounts so Thank you to all the anons and not logged in people! :P

Chapter Six

_Sam_

To be honest the hand holding doesn't really bother him. Once he gets use to the feel of Dean's palm against his, the way their hands mold together, then he actually kind of likes it. In an odd way, it's nice to have Dean really focused on him like this. They're from a family that did little more than pat you on the back unless you have just come back from the dead, so having the contact, the human touch he supposes, makes Sam feel that much more _here. _It makes him feel more present, more alive.

Of course he would never tell Dean that. It sounds weird, even to him and he can do without his brother laughing at him.

At first they do it only in the car, driving between their room and breakfast and the gas station, and then without thinking, Sam reaches for Dean while they are in line to pay for some gasoline and new lighters and he doesn't realize he's done it until he looks at Dean. Dean is watching him with wide, searching eyes and clinging to Sam so desperately that he doesn't even _think about_ pulling away. He smiles at Dean and pretends that nothing unusual is happening.

They reach Glendale by mid morning, all the rush gone from them. Dean seems fine, as far as Sam can tell. In fact, he is acting basically like himself, aside from the way, he touches Sam's arm when he's talking to him, or periodically leans against him.

If Sam knew this was all it took to have Dean normal once again, he would have been doing it from the start.

Sam spends most of the afternoon recollecting everyone they saw in Glendale. He writes down all the names that he remembers, plus the ones that he doesn't remember, but Dean does. They have all of the previous print outs still, and a couple of numbers, but it is nothing that they can't figure out given some time.

The first clues had been that teenage boys were going missing, one a week on Friday nights while they were out partying. Dean thought it was kind of hilarious when they realized that the thing doing it was nothing other than just the angry spirit of a mother. She had the boys in the cellar where her son had been trapped and died one drunken night. She was punishing them for acting out.

Sam dug up the bones, salted and burned them, and called Dean. Dean was still fighting off a ghost and trying desperately to get three kids to safety. In the end, burning up her wigs was the last straw. Again, hilarious.

Except that three kids were scarred for life, both physically and mentally. Sam chose not to think about that.

"We've dealt with a lot worse than this little curse before," Sam says.

Dean snorts and reaches for Sam's hand over the table. He reaches for him without thinking and Dean says nothing while he entwines their fingers.

"Okay, so we started with the Benson twins," Sam says.

Dean grins.

"Dude, I'm not about to forget them."

Sam raises a brow at their joined hands.

"Huh, I thought I was like, the centre of your universe now, or something."

For a moment, Dean looks taken aback, like he's actually offended Sam or something and Sam can't help the burst of laughter. Dean rolls his eyes.

"Not the centre, just the focus."

Sam clears his throat and looks back down at his list.

"Okay but we saw them on the first day we were here, three days before we left, you want to start a little later?"

Dean seems to think, tracing his thumb over Sam's knuckles, focusing on that. After a minute Sam realizes that if Dean is thinking at all, it's definitely not about their last salt and burn.

He clears his throat again and waits for Dean to look at him.

"We said goodbye to Mrs. Bridges and her Son right before we left town. I say we start there."

Dean nods.

"Yeah sure."

He seems kind of indifferent to his own fate and it's a little irritating but mostly because it reminds Sam of the first couple of days before the "bedroom scene" when Dean couldn't hide the curse any more. Detached, living in his own head.

"Alright, let's go, this curse isn't going to break itself."

He claps his hands together and pushes to his feet and relief swims through Sam.

They knock on Mrs. Bridges door not ten minutes later. The town is small and fairly quiet aside from the recent haunting. Sam remembers how simple the case had seemed at first.

Mrs. Bridges opens the door with a wide smile, her permed hair up around her head like a little cloud that makes her look far older than she is.

"Sam, Dean! How are you boys?"

"We're good…"

Sam trails off when her smile falters and she stares. Sam looks down, realizing that Dean is clasped to his arm, his head resting gently on his shoulder.

He has the good grace to straighten and pull away.

"Uh," Sam clears his throat. "We—"

"Let me guess," she says her eyes twinkling. "You boys lied about more than your jobs didn't you?"

Actually, no they hadn't.

"Guilty," Dean says at once.

He shrugs and looks at Sam.

"We're not brothers."

She invites them in without a blink and in no time they are eating her apple pie and sitting around her lunch table as though they hadn't left at all.

"Don't tell me the ghost is back," she says finally.

"No, it's not," Sam assures her. "Really we just wanted to check in on you and Mick."

She gives Sam a searching look that has him squirming in his seat.

"No offence boy, but that's a load of bull. Now, are you going to tell me what's really brought you here?"

She looks between them seriously and Sam can hear Dean gulp from across the table.

Finally he sighs.

"Look, ever since we left this town I haven't been feeling right… we're trying to retrace our steps, see where I might have caught it."

Apparently that answer makes more sense than Sam's because she comes forward at once, putting a hand to Dean's forehead.

"Well there's a nasty bug going around this area. It's a strong cold, but it feels like the flu. Hm, you feel okay though."

She leans back on the counter, thinking.

"I don't think that's what you have," she says. "What are your symptoms?"

Clearly, coming to the over-protective mother first was a bad idea.

"Uh." Dean is shifting in his seat, shooting Sam glances and flushing as though they can read his mind.

"Mostly headaches," he says finally. "There's just this pressure…"

He waves in the general direction of his head.

"…and then…my chest starts to hurt like—like its getting crushed." He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. "It's freaky. I—I can feel my chest rising and falling but it's like I'm not getting any air. It's like I'm suffocating and I'm about to…"

Sam is staring at Dean, can't drag his eyes away in fact, because he has never heard this before. Dean has told him some five-second thing about feeling pressure in his chest and that is about it. He hasn't said it like he was actually dying from some fatal disease.

"You're about to what, Dean?" he presses, hearing his voice trembling.

He sighs and looks at Sam, his eyes more open and revealing than Sam thinks he knows.

"Like I'm about to break apart."

There is a long silence and then Mrs. Bridges breaks it.

"Dean I think a doctor would have been a better stop. That sounds really serious."

Dean finally looks away, but Sam is still watching him. He looks at Mrs. Bridges and pushes to his feet.

"It is," he agrees, "but we'll take care of it, don't worry."

In the car, Sam sits in his seat unmoving. It was stupid of them to start with the nicest woman in town. No way is she a witch. That's not so much what has Sam immobile in his seat though. He hasn't started the engine or put in the key at all and Dean is doing everything he can to just avoid eye contact and face away.

He still reaches over though, finding Sam's hand where it sits on his thigh and entwining their fingers that same familiar way that Sam has gotten use to.

Sam squeezes his fingers and Dean finally looks at him.

"Does this even help at all?" he asks. His voice sounds choked and he hates himself for it because guilt instantly flushes over Dean's face and that's not what he wanted.

Dean bites his lips and nods.

"Yeah," he says. "It dulls it but…"

"But?"

A laugh escapes his brother and it pains him too hear the sound so devoid of humour.

Dean looks back out the window.

"It's working less and less, Sammy."

That's definitely not something that Sam wants to hear because the only other thing that has made his brother relatively himself again was yesterday morning, on that creaky bed in the middle of nowhere.

"We have to break this fast, Dean."

Dean nods, his voice heavy with regret.

"I know."


	7. Chapter 7

AN: So here's another late installment of the story, but this time I have a legitimate excuse! I moved! Across the country! D: holy god was this experience unnerving. That said, all of my writing and posting seems to have fallen behind, BUT it should be all better now! :P My website is all up to date as well, if anyone is following the fiction there. ^^ Also on a note about this chapter. Its been a while since I read it over and while reading it today I came to realize I AM A SADIST! Seriously! What have I done to these poor boys?! D: ...pure evil...

Chapter Seven

_Dean_

It feels weird to have everything out in the open. Kind of good, actually, because it frees Dean to act on his impulses a little more. He leans against Sam every time they are standing still and finds that Sam's shoulder is the very perfect level for his head. He kind of fits against him, and every time he does it he remembers the other ways that they can fit together. For some reason he is suddenly sure that he and Sam are _made_ to fit together like two missing pieces of a puzzle. The thought warms him, and he keeps it to himself. There's no need to turn into a girl just because he's fawning over a boy.

He snickers to himself. A month ago a thought like that would have had him checking into an institute. Now it just makes him feel warm.

He wraps his arms around Sam's middle and wonders if he's taking it too far, the freedom that Sam is giving him to touch. If he is, he really doesn't care, because Sam's waist is the perfect size for his arms to wrap around and squeeze.

"Uh, Dean?"

He snaps out of his trance like he is being dunked in cold water and finds Sam looking at him with that adorable flush on his cheeks. Heat runs through Dean too, but it has nothing to do with embarrassment.

"Um, we should probably try to tone it down with the PDA here."

Dean looks up and finds himself staring at the Glendale public library. Why are they here again?

Sam gently untangles him and leads the way into the building. Dean only lets him get a couple steps ahead before he is throwing himself after Sam, grabbing him by the hand before he's managed to get too far past the doors.

Sam throws him an uncomfortable look, but doesn't pull away and that's permission enough for Dean.

He follows, Sam drawing him in like he has the habit of doing, like he is the only clear thing in sight. Not registering much beyond the feel of Sam's skin warm in his hands. He could have sworn that only last night, this was enough. He'd practically been himself when they'd gone to bed, but now it is like he is surrounded by a fog.

He finds enough clarity to nod at the librarian while Sam starts to speak to her.

If Dean shuts his eyes and thinks really hard, he can remember being here before. They'd spent hours digging up info on the spirit's life when she had been alive and the librarian at the time had brought them all the papers and files they needed. Dean supposes that this is the same girl but doesn't want to tear his eyes away from Sam for long enough to spare her a glance.

"Well, I think we can cut her out," Sam is saying. He keeps talking but it doesn't sound that important, so Dean shuts his eyes and just listens. Sam's voice has always been husky and low but until recently it has never flowed through Dean's body like blood, getting him loose and hard at the same time.

"Dean..."

He squeezed his eyes, holding back a moan. Some distant part of him wants him to wake up, snap to attention and be alert, but he pushes it away, wishing Sam would just say his name again.

"Dean."

He shakes him sharply and suddenly everything comes back into focus.

They are standing in the middle of the street, right next to the car. Sam is gripping his shoulders tightly, worry written all over his face and Dean is standing there with a massive erection. He can't place exactly which part of the last couple minutes has given it to him but he wants nothing more than to shove Sam hard against the Impala and take care of it, right now, with Sam's heated body under him.

He takes a shuddering breath and shuts his eyes.

"It's getting worse."

It isn't a question, but Dean nods anyway.

Sam's hands tighten on him and the groan that leaves his lips is so heated that there is no point in hiding anything else.

"I want you," he whispers and Sam starts so hard it's like Dean slapped him.

"Fuck," Sam groans, and that really isn't helping.

He steps back and Dean comes after him, reaching for him. Sam takes another step back, bumping into the car and Dean is right there, shoving against him, pinning him.

"Dean, I'm taking you back to the room," Sam growls. "Get in the car."

The words don't register until he is being pushed forcefully away.

"What? No!"

The panic that flares up is almost stronger than his arousal and he bites his lips, trying to focus on the problem.

"You can't leave me alone," he insists. "I'll die."

Sam stares at him, pity and fear flushing his face but Dean is too distraught and feeling just pathetic enough to not care.

"Okay," he says. "I'll stay with you, but only if you get in the car and be a good boy."

Sam is treating him like a fucking dog. He wants to spit back an angry reply but all that comes out of his parted lips is a growl because damn if that isn't fucking hot.

He gets into the passenger seat and is across it, pressing against Sam's side like he is supposed to be there and Sam just looks at him.

"Put on your seat belt and stay still," he growls. "Or I'm just dropping you off and not coming in."

Dean is in his seat in no time because, what the hell? What is Sam promising him here? They are going to go into the motel room and... He is moaning. He shuts his eyes and bites his lips and tries hard, really hard not to touch himself.

His hand grips onto the dashboard, and the other somehow finds Sam's thigh and he can't even pull it way, doesn't want to. Doesn't want to stop massaging Sam's upper thigh, feeling the tense muscle there.

"You're doing well," Sam keeps saying. "You're doing good Dean, just focus on getting to the room. We're almost there. We can make it there first."

First? Before what? Before Dean has him bent over, fucking him raw against the wall.

He is moaning again. He can hear the desperate keening noises gasping through the car and it only makes it worse, but he can't stop himself.

"Dean. Dean, wait. Stop."

Sam's hand is on his own and then it is pulling him away.

He gasps in protest and finally opens his eyes, to watch Sam. He is redder than Dean has ever seen him and he is pulling Dean's clinging hand away from the front of his pants. Dean has been touching him. He shudders and clasps back onto Sam's thigh. High. Too high. He can feel the hard bulge against the side of his hand and presses against it but manages to do just that until the car is squealing into the parking lot and Sam is out of the car.

Dean tries to go after him but a moment later Sam is on his side, getting the door open and pulling Dean free from the seat belt.

"Come on," he whispers harshly and forces Dean out of the seat, all the way to the door.

His arms are around Sam now. His cock pressing into Sam's thigh, rocking gently while he fumbles with the keys.

Finally the door is open and Dean is pushing against Sam, trying to feel him as much as he can until suddenly, miraculously Sam is flat on his back with a sexy gasp as he lands on the bed, and Dean is on top of him.

"Dean. Dean, wait. Slow down."

He can hear Sam, but his words aren't registering. The only thing that Dean really knows is that Sam feels amazing against him. His cock is hard this time, digging into Dean's hip until he shifts and they are against each other.

He thrusts against Sam, feeling his brother's hips rolling against his and just presses down harder, moaning and gasping and biting down on Sam's shoulder.

Sam lets out a cry, half surprise, half pleasure and Dean wants to see his face so badly that he lifts up over Sam, watching him, with parted lips.

Sam is saying something, something about calming down, but Dean doesn't want to hear it and then suddenly Sam's hands are on his face and he is being pulled down into a sloppy, open mouthed kiss.

Sam's tongue plunders into his mouth, licking him and sucking Dean's tongue out into his and it is possibly the hottest thing that has ever happened to him.

He groans and presses in deeper, their teeth clacking, but he doesn't care.

Sam sucks on him, drawing out his tongue and sucking on it, moving his head forward and back like it is something else entirely in his mouth and Dean is going to come.

He is groaning hard, each thrust of pleasure shooting through him, his dick straining hard against Sam's through his pants. He wants to pull their clothes off, get on top of Sam, give him what he wants so badly in his mouth, but he can't break this moment, not when it feels so fucking good.

His hands go between them instead. Getting Sam's pants undone is so easy that he has his thick cock in his fist in an instant, and Sam gasps, lips breaking apart just like that.

He leans forward, trying to catch Sam's mouth but his brother turns away.

"No, Dean, please. Don't touch me."

Dean would kill to hear his brother beg, but not with those words. They sting, burn through his whole body and he pushes away the feeling in favour of something better.

His cock feels wrong in his hand after touching Sam's. He wants the thick, hot heat of Sam in his hands, in his mouth, in whatever the fuck part of him Sam wants to put it in, but it still feels good to pull his dick, twist it and have it grinding against Sam's hip.

He is moaning like a whore against Sam's neck and shuts his eyes, whishing that Sam was doing more, was helping him.

After a moment, he puts his arms around Dean and Dean supposes that is enough.

He is close, each pull dragging a groan from his throat and making him shudder and at the last minute, he pulls up like he'd wanted to earlier, straddling Sam's chest and keeps pulling, fucking his fist hard, hips whipping up into his own hand.

He locks eyes with Sam, daring him to stop him and then is completely afraid that Sam actually will. Instead he just lays there, breathing hard, waiting.

His hands suddenly land on Dean's hips, stroking his thighs with calloused thumbs and that is all Dean needs.

He comes so hard it shakes his whole body, but he forces his eyes to stay open that little bit, watching his come splatter onto Sammy's face.

Some lands on his open mouth and the sight intensifies the pleasure pumping through him, making his cock twitch as it empties on his brother's face.

Finally, Dean bends down over Sam. He has his eyes closed, but doesn't act surprised when Dean presses their lips together, making sure to lap the bitter taste into Sam's mouth. He wants to make sure that Sam tastes it and it gives him a perverse pleasure to know that Sam isn't fighting it. He isn't pushing Dean away, just kissing him softly while Dean ravages his mouth.

When he draws away, Sam finally looks at him, his expression frighteningly blank.

"Do you feel any better now?" he asks quietly.

Dean stares, the words cutting into him.

Eventually, he finds it in himself to nod.

"Okay."

Sam nudges him off and Dean flops onto the bed next to him, his whole world sinking. Sam pushes off the bed, pulling his jeans shut, tucking his still hard cock under the oppressive fabric and wipes his face with the back of his hand. He does it all facing away from Dean so he can't see his face and then goes to the washroom while Dean wonders if he's just raped the only person he really loves in the world.

When Sam comes back out, he looks actually kind of surprised to see Dean still laying on the bed in the open, flaccid cock still hanging out of his jeans.

He looks away and walks back toward the door, picking up the room keys from where they have fallen.

"At least we managed to get the door shut," he says.

Maybe it is supposed to be a joke, but Dean doesn't laugh.

"Sam-"

"I'll wait in the car," Sam says and he is out the door just like that, leaving Dean laying there and feeling dirty for something that even now, he still wants.

He cleans himself up quickly, and forces his mind on mundane things. He thinks about how oily the soap feels and how warm the water. He thinks about how he has massive bed-head, but quickly veers away from that one. He thinks about Sam sitting alone in the car waiting, violated. He thinks about Sam's startled gasps, his hard cock and his tongue licking Dean's mouth like he was hungry for it. He thinks about Sam moaning and sucking on him.

When he finally climbs into the seat next to Sam, he is neat and tidy and smells like soap and Sam is staring ahead, much like he had been earlier in the day, but no doubt for a different reason.

Sam takes a deep breath and Dean wants to apologize, scream that he'll never do it again, beg for forgiveness and maybe kiss Sam into oblivion, but he thinks it would be better to let Sam go first.

"I was thinking," he says.

"Uh oh."

It comes out without thought, his typical response to that statement and Dean bites it back but Sam just smiles and shakes his head.

"I was thinking that... the hand holding isn't strong enough, or something."

He looks at Dean and Dean waits, wondering where the heck he is going with this.

Sam sighs.

"Yesterday... for a couple of hours, it was like nothing was wrong with you, but after that, with just holding hands it kept getting worse and worse until..."

Sam really doesn't need to finish that statement.

"So, what should we do?"

Sam swallows, a soft flush touching his cheeks, which is just ridiculous and adorable considering what has just happened.

"Kissing... I guess."

He shrugs awkwardly.

Dean stares.

"What?"

Sam swallows again, and glances at Dean.

"I think that we should kiss more, instead of just the hand holding."

Dean literally can't pull his eyes away.

"Wait, are you serious?"

Sam shrugs.

"I think it's worth trying, Dean."

He swallows thickly, resisting the urge to pinch himself.

"So... I can just... walk up to you, and kiss you, whenever I feel it?"

Sam licks his lips and shrugs, looking anywhere but at Dean.

"Even right now?"

That brings Sam's gaze to his own.

"However you want to do this Dean," he says firmly. "You're the one suffering through this."

Dean opens his mouth, maybe to ask Sam what he is on, but instead he just gapes. For not the first time, he wonders how he has been blessed with the best brother in the world and leans across the seats.

Sam turns to face him and waits until Dean presses his lips to his.

It is different than the other times, in fact it is almost like it is their first kiss for Dean, it is the first one that he is totally aware and clear for.

Sam's lips are so soft. He'll never stop marvelling at that one. Such a big man isn't supposed to feel so inviting, but Sam does.

He leans against him, not opening his mouth, not wanting to tempt himself and when he pulls back finally, Sam's eyes are closed.

He blinks them open and smiles at Dean, brows raised in a silent question that Dean chooses to ignore.

"This is so weird," Dean finally says.

"What?"

"Sitting in the Impala and kissing you. And _wanting _to kiss you."

It feels strange even leaving his mouth, but apparently that is the answer that Sam wants because he grins and starts the car.

"Good to hear," he says.


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Yay! Another chapter and I barely made you wait! :D As usual please enjoy and R&R3

Sam

Sam is trying not to freak out.

He manages to stay still in the car when Dean presses up to him and after everything that has happened, that really doesn't seem so bad, but now his head is reeling.

Dean nudges him with an elbow and Sam flinches, his cheeks turning instantly red at Dean's raised brow.

"Dude, I'm not gonna just ambush you."

No? He has done it before.

Sam just nods.

"So what were you saying?"

"Our waitress at the grill," he says.

Sam shrugs.

"You think it's worth checking her out?" he asks.

"From what I remember, it's definitely worth checking her out," Dean says, grinning.

Sam manages not to roll his eyes too hard at that.

He doesn't manage to hold his laughter back quite so well, when the same girl, Vanessa, looks at Dean blankly for a good minute when he acts like he knows her.

"What the hell," he demands the second she is out of sight. Sam laughs so hard, he almost can't breathe and when he finally wipes the fake tears from his eyes Dean just kicks him under the table, scowling.

"Not funny," he says. "Women are never supposed to forget me."

"Oh, I think its a little funny," Sam disagrees.

Dean eats the rest of his meal in stormy silence, not even sparing the girl a glimpse until they are done. He does slide his leg against Sam's though, under the table, trapping his foot between Sam's ankles. Sam decides to let it go in light of the recent realization that if he doesn't give Dean what he wants, he will eventually end up on his back with semen on his tongue and dripping off his chin.

He physically shakes the thought away and continues on with his plan of repressing the memory.

"So what," Dean asks suddenly. "It's the Benson sisters? They're the only ones left."

Sam thinks about the perky blonds who had been in charge of the old property where the boys had first vanished from and shakes his head in bewilderment.

"They really don't seem like the type," he says.

"Then who?" Dean asks. "We were only here for two days last time Sam. We've retraced all of our steps and the Benson twins are the only ones we haven't spoken to yet."

Sam nods. Dean is right, and it wouldn't be the first time that someone surprised them by acting out of character.

"Let's check it out in the morning."

The sun is setting on the horizon already, purple and orange streaks shooting up into the sky. It is probably too late now to think up a valid excuse to show up at their front doors when they were supposed to be police officers.

They go back to the room and Sam's eyes land on the bed they'd fallen on earlier that day. The sheets are a mess, but they still look clean enough. He is guessing that it is mostly to do with the fact that their clothes had stayed on.

Sam avoids that bed anyway, even though it is his. He climbs into the other one, sitting back on the headboard and turning on the TV, absently flicking through channels.

Most nights this is what they do unless they go out for drinks or research or work, but somehow now it feels a little awkward until Dean sinks into the other bed, snatching the remote from Sam's hand and somehow finding the first Scream movie playing. Sam established a long time ago that Dean has a sixth sense for bad horror movies.

They laugh at the opening, because really, how can you not, and grin and speak throughout most of the movie. It isn't like they are missing anything, they have both seen it before, and honestly it makes everything feel normal again for Sam. This is something that Dean is incredibly good at; talking and laughing as though nothing is wrong, until he makes Sam _feel_ like nothing is wrong.

His eyes are drifting shut by the end, and he doesn't fight it. He is feeling kind of calm despite everything. Despite what happened this afternoon. He pushes the thought away again and sinks deeper into sleep.

It is the feel of his bed dipping that wakes him and alerts him that the movie has ended, not the fact that the room is silent and dark, but that his brother is climbing into bed with him.

"Dean?" he asks.

He can hear the anxiety in his own voice and squishes it down.

"I just want to kiss you," Dean says.

Those words would normally induce surprise, maybe even revulsion but when his brother's deep soft voice speaks them, all Sam feels is relief.

He opens his arms, unthinkingly and Dean rolls into him, wrapping his strong arms around Sam, flattening a hand on his back and just breathing for a moment.

Sam shouldn't find this so relaxing, so intimate and easy. His eyes shouldn't be drifting shut again. He should be nervous, uneasy.

Dean's lips touch his softly at first. It is a calm kiss, different then their others, where Dean is kissing him like it is a life line, like he can't breathe without Sam's lips on his. This is like the kiss in the car; a soft press of lips, feeling the contours of Sam's mouth.

He keeps his eyes shut and after a moment he can forget its Dean. He lets himself stop fighting it.

He kisses Dean a lot like he would a lover. A lot like he had kissed Jess whenever they had just been lying together, no rush or urgency.

He tastes Dean's mouth softly, licking at the full lips, his own parting gently to suck on him softly.

He falls asleep with Dean's tongue in his mouth, licking him gently, tasting him, like it belongs there and wakes up in the morning with lips on his neck.

His dick is hard, straining against his jeans that he'd forgotten to kick off last night and he moans softly at the lips sucking softly just under his ear.

Sam inhales deeply, his hips moving on their own, pressing against another set of hips and rolling so that he is on top.

"Whoa, easy tiger."

Sam blinks his eyes open blurrily and stares down at Dean. His brother is looking up at him with dark eyes and flushed cheeks and it takes another minute for Sam to clue in to what's happening.

"I'm thinking you'll regret doing..." Dean gulps loudly and clears his throat. "Whatever it is you're doing."

Well that's an understatement.

It's like being dunked in cold water. Sam gasps and rolls off of his big brother and practically falls out of bed.

"Shit! Dean, I'm so sorry!"

The flash of hurt in Dean's eyes is the only thing reminding him that this isn't really his fault. He swallows and looks away while Dean pushes himself up out of bed.

"It's fine," he says curtly. "I just never took you for the frisky-in-the-morning type. I mean you always work out first thing..."

He looks at Sam suddenly, eyes widening.

"Oh."

Sam flushes.

"We should go," he says quickly. "There are so many things to do."

A grin tugs at Dean's lips.

"Alright, but you might want to fix your hair first."

Sam practically runs to the washroom.

He fixes himself up, choosing not to shower and gets himself ready as quickly as he can.

Dean is ready to go, boots on and keys in hand when Sam emerges.

He flashes him a smile as he pulls open the door.

"I'm driving," he says.

Sam swallows but follows Dean out without any protest.

He hasn't let Dean drive since this began and Dean hasn't tried to. He is so distracted, preoccupied, his eyes always flying to Sam and following him.

Apparently this means that the kissing is working.

That doesn't stop him from watching Dean closely the entire while he drives, his eyes picking up everything on the road nervously, twitching at every seemingly sudden move that Dean is making.

"Dude, would you stop backseat driving!" Dean suddenly snaps, shooting him a frustrated glare.

Sam gapes.

"Dean, I haven't said anything!"

"Yeah, well you don't need to, look at you."

Dean does just that and the car suddenly swerves into the other lane.

"Dean!"

He glues his eyes out the window and shrugs.

"It's fine, there are no cars."

Sam bites his lip and remains completely silent. If he knew how to turn invisible, he would be doing it. No way is he doing _anything_ to distract Dean right now.

With a sigh of relief, they arrive at the diner they'd been going to every morning for breakfast. Sam gets out of the car with a sigh and marches over to Dean, giving him a look, daring him to stop him as he takes the keys out of his hands.

"Not until the curse is broken," he says firmly.

Dean grimaces.

"It's not my fault," he insists. "I just need..."

He reaches out, not finishing his sentence, and not really needing to because the way he grips the collar of Sam's shirt and tugs him against his lips is clear enough.

He kisses him hard. Much harder than he had all night and when they part Sam can feel how swollen his lips are.

He licks them absently and raises a brow at Dean.

"That's so not it," he says. "You were just kissing me not even an hour ago."

Dean shrugs and walks ahead of him into the diner.

Sam just shakes his head and follows.

Dean twines their feet under the table and even grabs Sam's hand while they eat. A couple of the people eating at nearby tables shoot them looks, but Sam ignores them.

Dean is a little fidgety while he eats, but aside from that he seems fine.

"So how do you want to do this?" Sam asks.

Dean looks up at him through a mouthful of bacon.

"What, how do I want to deal with the Benson twins?" he chews thoughtfully. "You mean after I shoot them?"

Sam gives him a look.

"Dean, you're not shooting them."

"Why not?" Dean demands indignantly.

"Because they're people, not monsters."

Dean shrugs.

"I should at least get to mess them up. Burn down their house or something."

Sam just stares at him.

"You can't be serious?"

"They messed up _my_ life first Sammy, it's only fair."

Sam rolls his eyes.

He knows Dean is being dramatic, but he still has to lay the ground rules.

"Okay, we are going to knock on their door, then we are going to tell them to take the curse off and that's it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"What if they don't do it?"

Sam considers.

"_Then_ you can shoot them."

Dean grins at him.

They make it outside of the large white house before Dean presses up against Sam's side, pulling him into another heated kiss. He slides his tongue into Sam's mouth without preamble, thrusting into him and moaning hotly until Sam pushes him gently away.

He knows this was his idea, but it still feels really weird.

"Dean," he says softly.

His brother's eyes are unfocused, landing on Sam's mouth and looking like he is seeing nothing but that. He licks his lips and tries to lean forward again.

Sam holds him away, looking into Dean's face, fear prickling into him, because this is kind of how his brother had looked yesterday.

"Dean," he says again, more firmly this time and finally Dean's eyes drag up to his, fixing there.

"What?" he asks finally.

"You feeling okay?" Sam asks. "I thought the kissing was helping?"

Dean stares at him for a long moment and then grimaces. He blinks and pulls away, an aggravated growl in his throat.

"Let's just end this Sam," he says, and leads the way up the staircase to the front doors.


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Hi guys! So I just wanted to remind everyone about the hundredth reviewer prize! since we are nearing the number! :D I'm hoping it'll be in the next two chapters. I'll PM the winner, remember, you can request that I write you anything so be suuuper specific :D Aside from that please Enjoy! (I love this chapter... It's REALLY obvious why..._)

Dean

Dean remembers being here. He remembers being distracted by two buxom blonds who first greeted them in their pj's, matching long straight hair tousled with bed head.

They seem happy to see the Winchester brothers when they open the door. Not the reaction that Dean was expecting but whatever, he wasn't expecting the bitches to curse him either.

Sam manages to take over, sliding into their house at the warm welcome. He even gets a tight hug from one of the girls and it's all Dean can do to stand there and watch and not rip the girl off of him by her perfect hair.

Sam gives him a warning glare but Dean doesn't care. He doesn't drop kick the girl off of his brother, and that means that he gets to stink-eye her as much as he sees fit.

They both take a seat on the luxurious white couches sitting by the back windows. Not long ago, they'd been digging up that green grass and fighting off a ghost out there.

Sam settles on the couch next to him and Dean resists the urge to sink against him, rest his head against that constant, reassuring heart beat. One of the girls is asking something. Something about why they came here and Dean wants to just jump to the answer because that's how he works, but Sam is talking now and lately his voice has a way of making Dean melt into his seat like jelly.

He looks at Sam, so at ease amidst the perky-witches-of-incestuous-doom, and remembers with a smile how awkward Sam had been the first time they'd entered the house.

The girls had taken a kind of instant interest in him and Sam it seemed momentarily lost that ability to charm a girl's pants off in under sixty seconds. He'd stuttered and stammered while they flirted, while Dean laughed, and then practically booked it out of the place.

He smiled, remembering with sudden clarity how cute Sam had looked with that red flush on his cheeks, how he'd clearly been interested but seemed almost out of practice. Dean had badgered him all night about finding a bar, getting wasted and getting mini-Sammy some action. And of course Sam's response has been something about not being mini at all.

Dean's mouth goes dry as he suddenly, clearly, remembers how true that statement is. The feel of Sam's hard cock digging into his abdomen this morning rushes into his mind and suddenly blood is rushing through his veins, igniting him, tightening his pants.

He shuts his eyes and takes a breath and then rather delayed, he realizes the problem.

**"**So here's the thing," Sam is saying, "I'm just gonna come out and say it—"

"Sammy," he interrupts.

Sam looks at him and all Dean has to do is shake his head.

Maybe it's the look on Dean's face that shuts him up. He just looks at the twins and says tightly.

**"**We should get going, I think."

The girls are beyond confused, but that doesn't stop them from hightailing it out of the house.

"What the hell, Dean?" Sam demands, marching after him.

Dean makes it to the car before Sam is tugging on his arm, trying to turn Dean to face him he thinks,

but as far as he's concerned it's an invitation to slam his body against Sam's and fuck his mouth with his tongue the way he so badly wants to fuck his body.

Sam pulls away, shoves Dean away, really, sending him stumbling until he hits the Impala and stands there, breathing hard against the door and looking at Sam.

How can he look at anything else?

**"**Dean, what are you doing?"

"It isn't them," he says, instead of answering.

Sam stares at him for a beat, his bitchy expression falling down a notch.

**"**What? How do you know?"

"I remembered. You were so fucking cute the first time we were here." He thinks that should be enough. It should be but he can't stop himself. "You were so cute and sexy, stuttering after them and I wanted to get you fucked so bad, I just didn't realize that I wanted it to be by me."

Sam turns red, so red that Dean is sure he could probably cook breakfast on his face.

He wants to say something snappy about cracking out the eggs but instead his lips are suddenly preoccupied, sucking Sam's bottom lip between them, licking the roof of his mouth.

Someone cat-calls and Sam breaks away at once, shooting a tense look at the house where the girls are standing on the porch, openly watching and hollering at them.

**"**Get in the car," Sam says through gritted teeth.

Dean follows the command because that voice… it sends a chill through him to know that Sam can use it that way and it's just impossible to not obey.

Sam is next to him in an instant and Dean forces himself to stay still in his seat. The car squeals away from their audience, not that Dean cares about them. He cares about Sam. Only Sam. Sam with that clenched jaw and scared expression on his face.

"What is it?" he breathes.

Sam jerks his head away.

**"**Don't breathe in my ear Dean, goddamnit."

The car swerves a little and its funny, he hadn't even noticed he'd gotten so close.

"You're like a magnet," he says.

**"**What? Look Dean, do you not realize that this is a problem? We drove here straight from Colorado." He's clenching his fists against the wheel, squeezing it and twisting in his large hands. "We took our time. We spent a night in Denver and drank and scammed some pool and spoke to god knows how many people. Before that, we hunted down a demon in Casper and before that, a vampire nest and before that—do you even know how many people we speak to? At this point we don't know when it started, we don't even know if it was a witch at all."

"It is a witch," Dean says soothingly.

He puts a hand on Sam's leg but that only makes his brother tense up more. Unfortunately for him though, now that it's there, Dean really doesn't have the will power to pull it away.

**"**Yeah, but how do you _know_, Dean?" he shoots him a challenging glare. "It started at some unknown time and it keeps getting stronger and stronger by the day. Do you know of any witches curses like that?"

Dean shrugs.

"Call it a hunch."

Sam swerves into the parking spot before their room and is out of the car without a backwards glance, Dean trailing behind him like a lost dog.

**"**What are you doing?" he asks.

It's pretty obvious. Sam's packing, throwing their things into whatever bag is closest, dirty clothes with clean clothes, knives with books. It's not like him and they'll spend a hell of a time trying to fix everything, but Dean refuses to help on principle.

"Look," he says, keeping his voice as calm as he can manage. "There's no point rushing. We don't even have a destination yet."

He doesn't add the most important part; that Dean doesn't really care about the destination so long as

Sam is at his side when they get there. Clearly, a part of his brain still functions because he doesn't say that out loud... although he is curious about the reaction that bit of honesty would incite.

Sam doesn't look at him, he just snorts at Dean's remark and pulls out his phone while he carries the bags right past Dean, back to the car.

**"**We have a destination," he finally replies.

The bags are in the trunk before he speaks again.

"Bobby?" he asks.

That sends the alarms ringing in Dean long enough for him to try to snatch the phone from Sam's ear. He doesn't want Bobby to know. Bobby already knows too many embarrassing things about them.

Sam twists away.

**"**We're not so good actually. It's Dean."

Dean takes another dive and Sam makes the clever, _evil_, move of pinning Dean against the trunk of the car. Dean freezes, pressed up against Sam, Sam leaning over him, against him, with the phone still against his ear.

"It's a curse. A love one. It's getting worse every day and we can't find the witch that did it."

There is a long, pregnant silence in which Dean is completely powerless to do anything but remain still and melt into the feel of their combined heartbeats.

**"**Thanks, we'll be there soon to help."

He hangs up and looks down at Dean, his expression quite clearly challenging Dean to do something about it.

Dean kisses him.

With a groan Sam pulls away.

"You know, when I offered, I thought it would be like a once a day thing, not hourly, or every two minutes," he grumbles, walking back to the car door.

Dean shakes his head.

**"**Yeah, that's what I thought too, but it's not helping anymore."

Sam's face falls and all he does is look at Dean for a moment before getting into the car. Clearly that

isn't the best of news, and its totally not like Dean at all, but he doesn't really care anymore.

He's kind of beyond caring about things that disappoint his little brother. His dick is so hard in his pants already that its all he can do to keep them done up. It's all he can do to stay decent and not pull it out and squeeze it and pump it the way he had before until he's coming all over Sammy while he's driving.

His cock twitches and he moans. Its getting worse.

His head is starting that weird pounding headache that lessens when he finally presses to Sam's side.

It's not long before Dean presses his lips to the warm flesh of his neck. Sam doesn't say anything, he

just lets it happen until they are on the highway and Dean finally opens his mouth, sucking just under

Sam's jaw the way he had this morning.

_"Mmm."_

Sam had really liked it this morning. He scrapes his teeth against the spot, flicking out his tongue to sooth the skin and then sucks.

Sam shivers and the movement alone makes Dean hum with pleasure. It gives him the courage to snake his arms around Sam's firm waist, rubbing circles into his abdomen with searching fingers.

Sam is breathing hard. Dean can hear it clearly. Its making his cock drip and twitch so hard that Dean has to spare a hand just to reach down and squeeze it, pleasure coursing through him.

He groans loudly and the car swerves just a little bit.

**"**Dean," Sam says warningly, but the heat of his body, his panting breaths, makes it impossible to heed the tone of his voice. He needs Sam's mouth. He needs those bow lips on him, kissing him, sucking him.

He leans around, kissing a trail over Sam's jaw until he is at his lips, licking them open before pressing them together. Sam's open mouth invites him in and Dean takes advantage, licking into Sam's mouth, rubbing against his tongue desperately, sucking in his lips.

Sam groans hard, hips twitching against Dean's hand where its landed on Sam's waistband.

"Fuck!" he groans, breaking away. "I can't do this driving, Dean!"

Dean grips onto Sam as though he's been hit. He's expecting to be pushed away, forced to sit still in his seat until they reach wherever Sam is taking them. Instead, the car swerves onto the shoulder, and before Dean can even wonder what's going on, Sam is on top of him, pushing him down in his seat and climbing over him. Their hips squeeze together and Dean moans, yanking Sam down over him harder, pulling their lips back together, eyes practically rolling from the feel of Sam wedged on top of him, pressing him down.

Sam manages to recline the seat, and they're practically flat and then Sam is latching onto his neck, nipping at his collar bone and Dean is gripping his hips hard, thrusting up into him.

**"**Pants," he gasps and apparently that's enough because Sam is tugging down Dean's zipper, ripping the fabric apart, tugging it down.

Dean does the same, only he doesn't stop there. He grips Sam's cock and squeezes it, getting the feel of it, full and flush in his hand. _Finally._

Sam moans, shuts his eyes and then gently pulls Dean's hand off of him. He's shaking his head and that really isn't making any sense right now, except that he's taking Dean's hand, guiding it to his own painfully full cock and wrapping Dean's fingers around it.

Dean lets out a shuddering breath and wraps his other arm around Sam's neck, keeping him close, keeping him where Dean can stare into his slanted, sexy eyes.

"I want you," he groans. Sam's breathing out little 'humms', and licking his lips, dragging Dean's fist up and down for him.

**"**I want _your_ hand," he manages. "Not mine."

Sam bites his bottom lip and doesn't stop. He doesn't show that he's heard Dean at all until Dean is pulling his hand gently out of Sam's grip. Sam opens his eyes sharply, looking at Dean like he doesn't know what to do when its suddenly his fist alone around Dean's cock.

"Come on," Dean whispers and slowly, hesitantly, Sam is moving his fist, his large graceful hand rubbing Dean, massaging him, sliding up and down his length.

Dean's eyes roll back and then his head, exposing his neck while his moans fill the car. Sam's touching him. Its like some fucked up nightmare that's turned out to be Dean's biggest dream come true.

He grips Sam's shoulders. He wants to pull off Sam's shirt. He wants to dig his blunt nails into flesh and leave marks. He wants everyone to know that Sam is his.

Sam's lips touch his neck and then suddenly there is a loud tapping sound. Sam jerks hard, hand squeezing Dean painfully, the entire car jerking with the violence of his movement.

**"**Ah! Shit, Sam what are you doing?!"

Suddenly Sam is off of him, scrambling back into his seat, shoving his dick back into his pants.

There's someone at the window tapping hard with an incredibly unimpressed look on his face.

A police officer.

Sam barely has the window down before the officer is going off on him.

"What the hell is wrong with you boys?" he demands.

Sam opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

** "**You realize that you're in broad daylight, on a main highway? You can't do that here!"

The man gestures at the two of them and looks away and that's when Dean realizes that his dick is still sitting out of his jeans, hard and exposed for the world to see.

"For god's sake, put that away, boy!"

Dean gives him the courtesy of pulling his shirt down so that it sits over top of it and shrugs at the look Sam gives him. The officer has astronomically bad timing.

Sam had been touching him.

He wants to jump out of the car and grab the guy by the collar and demand if he knows what exactly he just interrupted, but Sam is already stammering a lame excuse.

**"**Sorry," he says. "We—he—"

He falls silent at Dean's quiet growl. There is _no way_ Sam is apologizing. Not for this.

"Just drive," he hisses. Its stupid, he knows, but Sam is a good driver. They can get away.

Sam shoots him a hard, bitchy glare. Great.

**"**License and registration. Now."

Sam gives everything over to the guy and they sit in silence until the officer is back in his car, checking everything over.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Dean demands. "Since when do we brown nose the police Sam? He doesn't know what the hell is going on here."

**"**Seriously?" Sam demands. "What's wrong with _me_? You're the one who wanted a high-speed chase because we got caught fooling around in our _car_ in the middle of the day on a busy stretch of road, Dean."

Okay. It sounds worse when he says it like that, but—

"But you were touching me Sam… dammit…"

It is the curse talking. This is _all_ the curse talking. Dean knows it, but that doesn't change the fact that he is still hard and wanting nothing more to go back in time and stop them from getting caught before

Dean has a chance to cum in his brother's fist.

Sam is just shaking his head, jaw clenched until the officer is back.

He hands them a hefty fine and gives them both a long, reproachful glare. The bastard.

**"**Don't do it again," he says. "There are families driving by. No one wants to see that."

Sam nods.

"Yes sir."

Oh that is just the icing on the cake.

They start to drive. Sam sitting tensely in his seat. Dean furious in his. He can see the police car following them for a while, watching them.

**"**Dick," Dean mutters.

"Yeah well, he's right," Sam starts.

**"**Oh don't even pull that bullshit, Sam—"

"It's true Dean, we were acting like horny teenagers—"

**"**Oh come on, you know we never did shit like this before, its this goddamn curse—"

"Well, _I'm_ not cursed Dean, in case you haven't noticed. I'm doing this for you!"

The words sting. They burn even and Dean wants to fight it even though he knows that its true.

**"**Bullshit," he says.

Sam shoots him a look.

"What?"

**"**That's bullshit Sam. You liked it. You've like it every time."

If he pushes out all the other thoughts, he can believe it too. He can forget Sam pushing him away and remember Sam hard and straining against him and this time is no different.

He reaches out, just to prove it to himself and finds the hard bulge in the front of Sam's jeans. He squeezes it, rubs it, massages it until Sam is squirming and gasping.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he demands.

He tries to push Dean's hand away, but Dean just comes back.

**"**Seriously? Right after getting caught?"

"Let them try to stop me," he challenges and pulls open Sam's pants. It's a challenge to Sam too. He's not stopping. Not now.

**"**Dean!"

The word is all he gets out before Dean's mouth is over him, sucking the tip into his mouth and moaning.

"Dean, not while I'm driving! Fuck!"

The car swerves.

**"**Don't you fucking crash my car," he says, and then drops his mouth back to Sam's cock.

He flicks at Sam's base, tongue tickling the edge of his balls and then licks up his heavy length until he gets to the tip again.

Sam isn't fighting anymore and that knowledge is exhilarating, almost more than Sam's hot, musty smell, nearly as much as the salty taste of him on Dean's tongue and the feel of him scraping the roof of his mouth.

Dean's never sucked cock before. He is normally quite hetero-sexual, after all, but now with Sam's in his mouth, he doesn't know how he's lived this long without it. He doesn't want to stop.

He's moaning and groaning, making hot needy sounds so loudly that he's almost drowning out Sam's noises above him.

Dean strains to hear the guttural gasps and trembling moans as he swallows around him. Sam starts to move his hips, small thrusting motions that make him drag around the inside of Dean's mouth and make Dean's eyes roll in intense, shivering pleasure.

"I'm gonna come," Sam finally gasps and its probably the hottest thing that Dean's ever heard. He wants to tell him its okay, to just do it, to shoot into Dean's mouth but no way in hell is he pulling his mouth away now.

He reaches down a hand, gripping his cock, which is laying, seeping against him and squeezes it while he seals his lips around Sam. He sucks in as hard as he can, cheeks hallowing, his throat swallowing around Sam's tip.

Sam pushes in hard, almost too hard and stills, hips straining against Dean's mouth and then he lets out a loud groan, liquid shooting into Dean's throat, surprising him with its intensity, making him choke.

He coughs and tries to swallow most of it down and then keeps his head in Sam's lap to lick up the rest with his tongue.

When he sits up, Sam is looking surprisingly uneasy in his seat even though his hands hang rather loosely on the wheel. They didn't crash and Sam didn't stop him so all in all it was a win.

He looks at Dean and Dean can see the unfocused, relaxed tilt to his lips and eyes. Kind of like he is sleepy but doesn't know what else is to come. Or like he doesn't know how to react.

"You didn't come," Sam says simply.

Dean nods and leans against Sam's side. Sam removes an arm from the wheel to put it around Dean's shoulders and Dean leans into him, head resting on his shoulder while he starts to jerk off.

He fucks his fist, moaning into Sam's ear until he comes, whispering Sam's name.


	10. Chapter 10

AN: So there's only one chapter left after this one D: I know! But I'm seriously considering doing a sequel... not a hundred percent sure... hm... I wanted to let you guys know how much you rock though! Thank you so much for all the reviews and follows. I was totally overwhelmed and may have (possibly) teared up once or twice from the really nice comments :'D THANK YOU! 3 I also wanted to let you guys know that my fiction site memberships are on sale for Christmas (so for all of December) and its really cheap if you're interested. There's also lots of free stuff that you can read there :D its .com. Last but not least, the winner of the story request is kjdw still waiting to hear a request but congratulations! Chapter Ten

_Sam_

Sam doesn't know what to make of this new development. All he knows is that somehow over the past week he's gone from having a normal brother to being flat on his back in a motel, arms tied to the bed post so that he can't push said-brother away like he did an hour ago in that ratty bar and grill when Dean has started touching him under the table.

Dean is over him now, not even a day after that scene on the road, and its like all of the barriers have been broken. Whatever resolve Dean had before, to not take this too far has vanished with Sam's dick in his mouth and come sliding down his throat, and any resolve Sam had to say no went along with it.

Sam wants to say that Dean is _not _worshiping him, but the way he's hovering over Sam's body, the way he sucks and laps at his skin moaning his name brings no other adjective to mind, and really it's a wonder that Sam can think of adjectives at all right now.

A loud string of vowels leaves his mouth and Dean snickers, licking him again.

"That feel good, Sammy?"

This is the weirdest part. It's like he's Dean. _Really_ Dean and not some cursed, sex-crazed maniac who can't hold back. No. This is more like Dean not _wanting_ to hold back.

"Yeah," he whispers, because really how is he supposed to say anything else right now.

"Mmm, you taste so good," Dean says huskily. He's licking Sam's straining cock while he says it, his lips dragging on the sensitized flesh with every word.

"I want to suck you every day," he says. "Would you like that, Sammy?"

He groans in response and Dean swallows him down.

In a way, its like the world is crashing down around him.

In another way its freakin awesome.

Sam arches off the bed, a moan on his lips and Dean over him, sucking him, swallowing around his tip like he's never had a god damn gag-reflex and he's been trained to do this.

Sam feels his eyes roll back, feels all of it in hyper-sensitized relief, every moment burned into the back of his mind, followed quickly by the knowledge that _this is Dean_, and it doesn't even bother him. In fact, in this moment Sam can't deny anything except the fact that it turns him on.

Dean, his _brother_, sucking his cock. He's the last person who should _ever _be doing it and it makes it the hottest thing Sam has ever experienced.

His cock twitches hard and Dean pulls off with a grin, green eyes shooting up to look at him. He licks up Sam's length all the way to the tip and then he dips back down, his tongue trailing down Sam's base, lapping at his balls and oh god.

Sam pulls up, fighting against the restraints. Trying to see Dean. He wants to see him, see what it looks like when his tongue circles Sam's balls, sucking them into his mouth, although he supposes it wont make a difference because his eyes roll back in his head a moment later and he drops down against the pillows, moaning hard, almost as loudly as Dean is.

And then his mouth releases him, dipping even lower.

Sam's eyes shoot open wide.

"Dean, what are you—?"

His voice dies in his throat, mouth dropping open and all Sam can do is stay completely still while Dean licks his hole.

He runs his tongue around in wide, maddening circles until Sam's eyes are closing again, his breath coming in short gasps. This was not supposed to feel good. It was not supposed to feel like this. Especially with Dean.

The moment of panic shoots through Sam so harshly he flinches, the bed jerking.

"Dean," he says, but Dean just drops his hands onto Sam's inner thighs, rubbing the skin there in soft circles while he continues to lick him.

When his tongue dips into Sam, its all he can do to not fall apart right then and there. He manages short, gasping moans that seem to fill the air, accompanying Dean's hungry noises. He knows he should be grossed out, disgusted, but he can't manage to think about anything except the feel of Dean. Dean.

"Dean," he gasps.

His brother moans in response and its killing Sam. it's killing him that he can't see what's happening. He can't see Dean's tongue dipping into him. He can't see the way Dean slides saliva into him. He can only feel it and it feels so weirdly good that Sam shoves down against him, trying to get more.

Suddenly its all gone and nothing but cold air is touching him. He moans and opens his eyes, blinking up at Dean blankly while he lays down over him. His eyes are wide, iris' gulped up by pupils.

Sam doesn't know what to do while Dean looks down at him. It would be easier if they weren't facing each other, but then Dean leans in kissing him, those full lips sucking Sam up, reminding him that this is good. Its for Dean.

Dean's hard tip presses up against his opening and Sam jerks again. He fights the urge to struggle and kick Dean away. With a deep breath he forces himself still.

Dean looks at him while he slides inside, but Sam can't keep his eyes open. He cries out, mostly in pain, his head falling back, his legs wrapping around Dean's waist to ease some of the pressure. It doesn't feel like it should fit. In a large way, it doesn't. Dean is too big. The stretch is almost too much. Every spastic clench and twitch of his own muscles makes him wince and gasp.

Dean buries his face against Sam's neck, deep breaths puffing against his skin until the pain doesn't seem so bad anymore. Until it feels weird, but okay.

He tries to say something, to let Dean know he is okay and finally settles on nodding.

That seems to be enough.

Dean starts to move, long, deep thrusts that go all the way into Sam. It starts to feel okay, the pain mostly gone and then Dean shifts a little, the angle changing and it starts to lean toward feeling good.

Sam shuts his eyes, remembering to breathe while Dean moans into his ear.

He's close judging by the staggered, gasping moans and the sharp uneven thrusts and Sam wishes that his hands were free so that he could touch Dean. So that he could do more than lay here and take it.

"Tell me you like this Sammy," Dean suddenly whispers. "Jesus, tell me you even _want_ this."

In a weird, detached way Sam thinks _it looks like my brother is finally back _and turns his face toward Dean, whispering in his ear.

"It feels so good, Dean" and "I want this" and "I want you. I want you so fucking much."

Dean has always done everything for him after all. This is the least that Sam can do.


	11. Chapter 11

AN: Hi all! Sorry for the delay updating! Life has been crazy! :/ (Also I was really nervous about updating this chapter! :$) BUT I have good news! There is one more chapter after this one! I just counted wrong! haha Also kjdw has requested a season one Stanford wincest in which Sam is dealing with his feelings. I'm excited since I haven't written that era before :D BUT it will be slow coming because I am also writing a J2 bigbang this year! :D For all those who asked, my live journal name is Rukaya007. Please add me, I'm dangerously lacking in friends! haha As always, I hope that you enjoy this chapter :) Chapter Eleven

Dean

They pull into Bobby's sometime around afternoon. He comes out onto the porch at the sound of their arrival as though he's been waiting near the window.

Dean knows that Bobby only ever does things like that with them. It warms his heart a little, but it still doesn't make him get out of the car.

Its not that he doesn't want to face Bobby. He could care less about Bobby knowing anymore. A full day of fucking his brother pretty much erases things like social expectations from his bag of giving-a-fuck.

He doesn't care about Bobby knowing, but out here with Bobby, this is the way to undo all of this. He looks at Sam now. He is sitting still in the drivers seat, a weird expression on his face as he stares blankly ahead.

His eyes are still fixed out the windshield, but he's not looking at anything.

Neither of them look up until Bobby decides to traipse down to the car and wrap his knuckles against Sam's half closed window.

"You boys planning on sitting here all day?" he asks.

Without answering, Sam climbs out of his seat, past Bobby and into the house.

Bobby looks after him for a minute and then gives Dean a weary look as he climbs from the car.

Dean just shrugs at him awkwardly and resists the urge to tear after Sam and stop him from getting too far.

"You gonna be giving me more details about this curse of yours or do I have to guess?" Bobby asks.

Dean gives him a look, considering what best to tell him.

"I got cursed."

Bobby sighs.

"This is gonna be another long, painful day."

That is an understatement.

Bobby starts by asking the symptoms. By the time Dean gets to the part where kissing and touching Sam isn't enough, Sam is pinching him hard in the side, silently asking him to stop and Bobby is cracking out a six pack.

He's pretty sure that Sam is regretting his choice to bring Dean here after about ten minutes in. Bobby has collected a pile of dusty tombs all bookmarked at different pages. Each one a different love curse, spell or counter curse, each created a different way and with different intensities.

Dean wonders why Bobby has so many books about love spells and remains sullen in his spot while Sam takes over the explanation. Dean probably would have complained under other circumstances but right now he's feeling mellow and more than willing to let Sam do the hard stuff.

After the mind blowing fuck session Dean feels a lot more relaxed. He finally feels like himself again. Now its more like he's smitten than about to cave in and die because he loves him so much. He's relaxed and frighteningly in love, but he's a human again. The only concern being; how long until the sex stops working?

How long until Sam cant take it anymore?

He leans against Sam's side, stopping any halting discussion in its tracks, and pointedly takes his brother's arm, wrapping it around himself and sinking into him.

Bobby gives him and then Sam a pointed look before Dean grunts.

"What, I'm under a love spell, so sue me."

That's when the whiskey comes out.

Another ten minutes and Dean's head is buzzing pleasantly and he's more than content to enjoy the sound of Sam's heart-beat against his ear than join in on the 'grown up talk'. They're talking about him, but he doesn't really care.

His lips find the soft pulse at the base of Sam's neck and he lets his eyes drift shut, enjoying the feel until Sam notices and jerks away.

"Dean," he says softly. "Not in front of Bobby."

Bobby groans.

"Oh god I knew I'd be scarred by the end of this."

"Sorry," Sam says at once. "I thought you'd be okay..."

He gives Dean a pointed look that more than adequately finishes the sentence for him; _after last night..._

Dean can't help the scowl. If this is some of the last time he has with Sam willing to let him feel him up, then he's god-damn taking advantage of it.

"You have to let me," he insists. "It hurts if you don't."

The guilty flush in Sam's cheeks does little to dampen the feel of pressing his face against Sam's collar and nipping the spot there he'd found before. It still feels good even though he knows it shouldn't. Even though he knows that all he should feel is guilt and self-hatred. Those feelings barely register under the feeling of Sam.

Maybe that is why he doesn't notice the long drawn out silence and the tenseness in the room. Maybe that's why Bobby's gentle hand on his elbow startles him so much.

"Can I talk to you Dean?" he asks. He gives Sam a look then. "Alone."

Sam clears his throat and pulls out of Dean's grip and is out the room before Dean can form the proper protests.

Without Sam, Dean has no reason for being here. Except that Bobby seems to think that he does. Bobby is leaning forward and fixing Dean with such an intense look that Dean squirms a little in his seat.

"What exactly is it you're doing to your brother?" he asks.

Dean can tell him a number of things he's been doing to his brother, but he doesn't think that's what Bobby wants to hear.

"Come again?" he asks.

Bobby leans forward even more and Dean can't help but lean back, raising his brows.

"Did you see the look on his face just there?" he demands harshly. "Tell me you've been taking him into consideration here."

Dean stares at Bobby, his gaze drifting anywhere but the disappointed glint in his eyes. He's been considering Sam. He's been considering him a lot actually. More than ever before. He considers the lines of his body, the softness of his skin, the colour and slant of his eyes.

"Tell me you haven't been forcing him Dean." Bobby sounds desperate, like he's begging for it to be true. "Tell me you haven't been guilting him into participating in this with you."

It starts like a sinking in his gut. Like he's just been dropped ten feet and still hasn't hit the ground. The nausea comes next, and then the weird empty feeling in his head. Its like a moment of clarity. Its like this is how the real Dean would feel and he is just a pale imitation, here to fuck everything up. He doesn't quite get it. Not yet, but he knows that its the curse. Its messing with him, and he suddenly, fiercely wants it gone. He wants it gone more than he wants Sam.

Bobby has this sad look in his eyes and all Dean can do is stare at him, wide eyed and confused.

"I want it gone Bobby," he says. Its all he says and Bobby is spurred into action.

In the end its easy. There is only one curse that intensifies day by day until it is unbearable, until there is no choice but to act on ones desires. In the faded pages of the book it says that the only way to undo it is to sit in the centre of a circle facing the object of desire-in this case Sam-and have him offer a part of himself to Dean for Dean to destroy.

Its all written very cryptically, but Dean just pulls aside the rug, and sits down in the middle of the devils trap, just because its already there.

When Sam sinks down in front of him Dean just leans forward and plucks out a strand of his ridiculously long hair.

"Ow!" Sam complains.

Dean just pulls out his lighter with a grin and flips it open on his sleeve.

"Do I get a goodbye kiss?" he asks. The wistful note in his tone is completely unintentional, but Sam doesn't seem to hear it anyway.

"Dean, you're not going anywhere, you're-."

He lights up the hair before Sam can finish his sentence and it burns instantly.

He looks up at Sam.

Sam is watching him expectantly, breath stuck in his throat, eyes wide.

Dean wants to tell him to calm the fuck down. That he only burned a strand of his freakish girl hair, and then suddenly Dean's realizing that he is sitting before Sam in the middle of the floor, cross-legged like he's in kindergarten again. Bobby and Sam are staring at him like he might pull a gun at any second and there is the smell of burnt hair up his nostrils.

And he had been cursed.

And he had fucked Sam.


	12. Chapter 12

**__**AN: Here it is! The last chapter D: Thank you guys so much for joining in on the ride. It has really been incredible! I can't tell you the number of days I had that were completely lifted by reading reviews and seeing peoples responses :) and yes, i really do think that I'll be writing a part two at some point but I'm not sure when that will be or if it is a definite thing. Anyway, on to the chapter, I hope you enjoy!

**_Chapter Twelve_**

_Sam_

Sam had expected a lot of reactions. He had expected freaking out. He had expected tears (because honestly, Dean was the girl out of the two of them). He had expected Dean to drink.

He hadn't expected the vomiting.

Sam taps lightly on the washroom door and stifles the urge to jump in there and hold back Dean's hair and rub his back. That would probably make him wretch even more. Besides, Dean's hair isn't long enough and they don't have that type of relationship anymore. Dean's cured.

His stomach twists a little and Sam chalks it down to sympathy indigestion and pushes the door open a creek.

"Dean?" he asks gently.

The gagging stops long enough for Dean to kick the door shut.

"Get out!" he gasps. His voice sounds scratched raw and tortured and Sam can't help but wonder how much of that is from the recent presence of Sam's cock in his throat or the knowledge that it wont be happening again.

And then he remembers again that Dean is cured.

He leaves the washroom and drops down into an armchair, waiting stiffly for Dean to finish. Bobby's taken off to do some business in town, which obviously translates into 'not touching this mess with a ten foot pole' and so he sits alone.

In the quiet, Dean's dry heaves are the only sound, muffled through floorboards and walls.

Eventually Dean's shadow falls into the room and Sam looks up to find his brother pale and drawn and standing stiffly against the door frame.

He isn't avoiding eye contact the way that Sam had expected him to. He isn't cracking jokes and making like nothing happened, which Sam had also expected. Clearly, predicting Dean has gone out the window.

"Dean," he says, because that is all that he _can_ say.

Dean shakes his head, slowly, like it hurts doing it.

"Why would you do it, Sam?" he asks. Maybe Sam had been right about one thing. Dean is about to cry.

His eyes are shining, lost and anguished and Sam's heart does a somersault. He wants to take that look off of Dean's face. He wants to never see it again.

"I—I wanted to make you happy..."

The words sound so ridiculous coming from his mouth while he stares at Dean. His Dean. The real Dean. The one unaffected by curses and lust and Sam. The one who looks like he just had the world turned over on him.

"I'm sorry," Sam says.

Dean tears his eyes away, shakes his head and is gone out the front door before Sam can stop him. Before he can consider whether Dean would even want him to.

He sits in stunned silence. Shocked eyes fixed on the wall in front of him, watching the sun move across the dusty room.

Why had he expected Dean to get it? Why had he thought that Dean would understand why Sam had given in?

His brother had been cursed and instead of helping him like he should have been, he played along with the curse. He'd let Dean fuck him raw. He'd even enjoyed it.

Now he understands the puking. Sam thinks he might just do the same.

It takes more than an hour for him to realize that he hasn't heard the rumble of the car through the window.

Abruptly, Sam stands up and marches to the front door, pulling it open.

The Impala is still there, sitting exactly as Sam left it. Dean is in the driver's seat, fists clenched around the steering wheel, eyes glued before him.

After a long minute he looks up at Sam, his eyes still stark, still wired and lost but his voice when he speaks is a lot more like himself. So much so that it makes the solid chunk of ice in his heart melt and evaporate as though it was never there.

"Are you coming or what?"

Sam is at the car and in his seat without remembering moving.

As they take off for the highway Sam turns up the music and shuts his eyes. Dean doesn't say anything and he doesn't get that look off his face, but it doesn't matter.

He should have known it would all work out. Sasquatch or not, he was still Dean's baby brother. He should have known that Dean would forgive him. He would understand. That's just what Dean did when it came to Sam.

And maybe he'd fucked up. Again. But he would make it up to him. He would make Dean trust him again. Because that's what Sam did when it came to Dean.

END


	13. Authors note

An: so I know that the ending may have been somewhat disappointing But I really just can't see Dean accepting everything in one go and adjusting super quickly or with any level of ease. lets face it, they usually ignore issues and stuff them down until the walls break down and I believed that to show that I would need a whole new story...

That said, I was inspired out of no where and the first chapter is written and up! :D its called "in darkness without you" yay!


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